Spring Cleaning
by Miss Jazz
Summary: Everything changed on Sara's night off. Spoilers for Way to Go. GSR.


**Spring Cleaning**

By Miss Jazz

**Category:** Angst/Romance, GSR.

**Spoilers:** Season six up to 6x24.

**Summary:** Everything changed on Sara's night off. GSR.

**Disclaimer:** As always, I don't own CSI.

**Author's Note:** GSR! I am so happy about the finale! Yay! Hmm, now when did their relationship start? This story is my own little exploration. It's set after 6x22 and before 6x24. I hope you like it!

* * *

He wasn't the kind of man who changed his mind easily. 

So when he got the call that Friday night, he immediately made a choice and he went with it. No second-guessing, no self-doubt...

He just flipped on his signal light, made a right turn instead of going left, and then forced his foot down on the gas pedal. He squeezed the steering wheel tightly with one hand, while using the other to rapidly punch in a familiar number on his cell phone. He kept his blue eyes–cold and determined–glued on the road ahead as he listened and prayed for an answer.

She picked up the phone on the second ring, saying 'hello' in a voice that held so much suppressed fear and confusion. He could hear her trembling, he could _feel_ her voice waver. She was trying to hide it, as she always did, but he knew better.

"Sara? Sara, talk to me," he practically begged, as he surged ahead. "I need you to stay on the line with me this time. Don't hang up. Tell me what's happening."

She sighed. "Grissom?"

"Yes, honey, it's me. Where are you right now?"

"I'm...I'm in the kitchen. I'm okay," she insisted. "I just..." She trailed off, exhaling slowing into the phone. The sound was heavy in Grissom's ear, but comforting.

She needed him.

"Sara, relax," he told her firmly. "Make yourself some tea."

"Tea...yeah...okay...that sounds...good."

He could hear her moving around, and he wondered if she was listening to him. He also wondered if she had any idea that he was breaking the speed limit right at that moment, just trying to get to her. He doubted it–she seemed completely unaware, like she was lost in her own world. He knew she wasn't in trouble, because she had told him as much in her first phone call, but he had no idea why she was so emotionally distressed.

"I'm on my way to you," he said, hoping that his words would sink in, and that she would take a few deep breaths. He was already taking deep breaths himself, calming his nerves. He had made the choice to drive directly to Sara's apartment, and although he'd been there before, he was still nervous about it. Usually, he had more time to prepare himself, to work up some sort of a speech, or a barrier to hide his feelings for her. But now...

Now he was going in without a shield.

"Sara, are you still there?" he asked gently, forcing himself to forget his own fears and focus on her. He had to make sure that she was with him. "Sara?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Good. Are you making tea?"

"Yeah..."

"Okay, make me a cup and I'll be right there," he said. "I'll need you to let me in."

"I...I can do that."

Five minutes later, with red eyes and a steaming mug of tea in her hand, she did.

With a pounding heart, he pocketed his car keys and stepped inside. Sara held the door until he was all the way in, her fingers shaking, tapping nervously against the handle. She offered him the tea with her other trembling hand. She didn't notice that some of the hot liquid had already spilled onto her skin, leaving a small red burn.

Grissom took the tea, touching her hand softly. "You should run this under cold water," he suggested quietly.

Sara shook her head, but she closed the door and headed for the kitchen to run the water.

He followed.

"It's fine," she whispered, as she splashed the burn almost frantically. "It...it doesn't hurt."

Grissom eyed her carefully. "That's because you're not thinking about it."

Sara turned off the tap and stared at him blankly. "Yeah...I know. I'm not...I'm not thinking about it, am I?" She took a rapid, uneven breath."I'm thinking about a million other things."

"Sara..."

She didn't answer; she just picked up her own mug of tea and moved over to the couch, gesturing timidly for him to join her. "That's why I called you, Griss," she continued. "I'm...I mean, I've been thinking..."

As she searched for her words, he guided her down onto the couch, holding her elbow until they were both sitting. "Did something happen tonight?" he asked gently, as he studied her nervous expression. He tried to remember if Sara had told him about any plans for her night off. She didn't usually have any, and if she did, she didn't usually tell him, but he searched his memory, just in case.

Sara stopped his search with a firm shake of her head. "Nothing happened...at least, not really," she sighed."I've been home all night. I...I made some dinner, I read a little...and then I started some spring cleaning."

"Spring cleaning?" Grissom's fingers still lingered under her elbow, supporting her lightly, _safely._ "Sara, I'm not sure I–"

"Griss, I know you don't understand. _I_ don't understand," she breathed. "I just...I, uh, I found something when I was cleaning out my night table drawer..."

"What?"

"I found something in my drawer," Sara repeated. Biting her lip, she reached into her pocket and produced a crumpled piece of notepaper. She handed it to him, her hand still trembling. "I didn't forget about it...but I wasn't expecting to find it..."

"Sara, what is this?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "A letter."

"A letter? This is what upset you?" he asked, trying to hide his surprise. "Who...who's it from?"

"It's...from me."

Grissom glanced up from the letter to look into her watery brown eyes. "This is from you...to, uh, to me?"

"No," Sara whispered. "It's from me...to me."

"You wrote this to yourself?"

She nodded. "After Nick's abduction, I, uh, I decided to write something down, just to remind myself...I thought it would help me deal with...everything."

"Did it?"

"I think so," she replied. "I mean, I _thought_ so. Things have been good until...recently."

_Recently? _

Grissom didn't know what she meant, but he was used to that. The thing he _wasn't_ used to was the frightened look in her eyes. He'd seen her fear surface on a few occasions, but this fear seemed so out of place. She wasn't being held at knife-point; she wasn't worried about a missing or injured friend; she wasn't bruised or bleeding–she was sitting there on her couch, with him by her side, watching as he ran his fingers along the creases in the notepaper.

"Sara, what can I do?" he whispered. "You're...so upset. How can I help?"

"You can read it," she whispered back. "If you read the letter, you'll understand."

Grissom wasn't sure if he would, but he listened to her, hoping that she was right. He focussed on the paper, taking in the words that she had written on it.

_May 20th, 2005_

_In five years, I've managed to accomplish several things. I've made a few close friends; I've remained dedicated to my job, and at times, I've excelled at it; I've learned many things from those around me; I've realized that the past will never go away, and that the only way to move on is to deal with it; and I've also realized that the one thing, or the one person, that I came to Vegas for, is the person I have to thank for helping me achieve all of this. Even if I didn't get the one thing I really wanted, I ended up with a lot, and I wouldn't have if he had never called me. I'll need to remind myself of this many times, because feelings just don't disappear, and because it really is time to move on. Nick made me believe that it's possible to move forward. He's been through a lot, but I know he'll make it. He's strong and he never gives up. I know that I have that kind of strength and commitment in me somewhere. I just need to find it._

_Sara_

It was a short letter, but it was powerful.

Grissom folded the paper quickly, and stared at his hands, wishing that he had something–anything–to say. It was official–Sara had moved on, or at least she wanted to, and he was too late to do anything about it. What was he _supposed_ to say? Was he supposed to ask if she'd found the strength and commitment? Was he supposed to say thank-you for the credit she'd given him? Was he supposed to convince her that she shouldn't have moved on? He wanted to, but he had no idea how to begin.

Clueless, he decided to go with the most obvious question. "What was I supposed to understand?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "Sara...I'm sorry, I don't–"

"Griss," she interrupted, blurting his name out. "Grissom, I was...I was doing so well! I thought I'd moved on, I didn't even need to read the letter and remind myself anymore...I thought I'd done it!" She stopped for a moment, only to gasp for air. "You're supposed to understand that I'm _trying! _I'm trying so hard to move on...and I can't! I thought I had...then everything changed!"

Startled by Sara's breathless outburst, Grissom moved a bit closer to her, taking her hand in an attempt to provide some comfort. "What, uh, what changed?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. He also knew where that question would take them, but he couldn't stop the words from coming out.

Sara knew where they were going too, and she didn't even hesitate. "_We _changed, Grissom," she said, her voice loud and steady. "I was getting used to the act. I wasn't getting upset anymore when...when you avoided me. I was smiling and laughing again. I was finally coming to terms with the fact that you weren't interested...and then it changed."

Grissom was silent. He avoided Sara's gaze, but he squeezed her hand, letting her know that he was listening...and processing. When he finally stole a glance at her, her eyes welled up with tears.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she whispered. "You started looking at me again. We started talking like we used to. Things were like they were when I first came here. Easy, relaxed. Then... all of a sudden you're talking about fantasies, about what should be kept private. You started talking about...about your _feelings_...and...and I saw something in your eyes. I thought you wanted..." Her breathing quickened as she let out a sob and leaned forward. "I can't...do this again...Griss...I won't."

"Easy, Sara," he told her gently, placing his free hand on her back. He felt the air move in and out of her rapidly and he wondered if he should just let down his guard and say it. Sara was right–she couldn't go through it again. He wouldn't let her go through it again. He had already broken her once.

"I'm sorry..." she began to say, barely getting the words out. "I found the letter and I remembered how hard it was to...to decide to move on...I know I should..."

Grissom heaved in a breath and went for it. "You said grey hair was attractive," he said quickly, quietly. "And...and I had never been more relieved in my life."

Sara sat up instantly, steadying herself as well as she could. Grissom's hand was still on her back, helping her out. "You were...relieved?" she asked him, feeling light all of a sudden. Or lightheaded. She slumped back on the couch, mind reeling.

He secured his hold on her. "Yes," he answered. "I was relieved. It gave me a reason to think, or uh, to hope, that...that I wasn't too late. You're right. I know...that things have changed."

Sara stared at their entwined hands, tipping her head as she tried to make sense of everything. "You really do?"

"I...I don't know. I _think_ so."

She looked up at him, feeling embarrassed and distressed. "I...can't breathe."

"In through the nose, out through the mouth," he reminded her, pushing his emotions aside. "Slowly."

"I'm...trying," she mumbled. "I just...I can't do this again."

"I know." He started to rub her back, encouraging her to slow down her breathing. "I won't put you through it."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that...that I won't hurt you again."

She winced. "So you're...you're saying that I should stick to the letter and move on?"

"No." He cleared his throat, shifting nervously on the couch. "I'm saying that...I'm sorry, and that I hope you can find a way to trust me again. If you can, and if you're willing to let me work through a few things, then I, uh, I think that you_ shouldn't_ stick to the letter, or move on."

"I...I shouldn't?"

He moved his hand from her back to her shoulder, running his fingers across it, touching the back of her neck. "I can't tell you what you should and shouldn't do, Sara. But...I hope you'll trust me."

Sara shivered. "I can't wait for you, Grissom. If I think it'll happen and it doesn't, then..."

"I'm not asking you to wait," he breathed. "I, uh, I think I'm asking you to trust me now, to give me a chance now, and to take it slowly."

She sat there for a few seconds, breathing in and out in a steady pattern. Then she said, "we really did change, didn't we? You...want this."

"I do," he said. "But not at your expense."

She reached up, taking his hand off her neck and guiding it to her cheek. They both closed their eyes when his fingers touched her soft skin. "I've wanted this for so long," she said, her voice trembling wildly again. "I've always known that I have no strength when it comes to you. No matter how hard I try...I can't let it go."

"I don't want you to let it go," he replied, opening his eyes so he could watch her. "But I don't want you to feel trapped either."

"I already feel that way...but like I said, I can't seem to move on." Keeping her eyes closed, she leaned against his palm, feeling the heat of it and caving. "I'm so...scared, Grissom."

"I am too," he admitted. "But I...I want to do it anyway."

Her eyelids fluttered open and Grissom found himself staring into her brown eyes. They were so close now, their noses almost touching, her warm breath mingling with his. He had never been with her like this, but somehow, it felt familiar, appropriate.

And as her lips came to press against his, Sara agreed. "This is...right. It feels...right," she moaned, as they kissed lightly, delicately. Her fingers wandered into his lap and she retrieved the letter, ripping it up as well as she could without interrupting the moment. "I can't...I won't move on," she promised, her words landing on his lips, and on his tongue.

Grissom didn't answer.

He had already lost himself in their kiss.


End file.
